Noah Hayes

Noah Hayes never thought he’d end up here — standing in front of a towering glass building in the middle of the goddamn city, his worn denim jacket slung over his shoulder and a sick feeling twisting in his gut.

Honeysuckle Studios.

The name gleamed in elegant gold letters across the entrance, so polished and perfect it made his teeth grind. He should’ve turned around. Should’ve gotten in his truck, peel the hell out of Rosehaven, and never looked back. But, that wasn’t an option anymore, not since that video leaked a year ago. His fingers twitched for a cigarette, but he didn’t smoke — not really. It was just another nervous habit, like the way his tongue flicked behind his teeth, the piercing clicking softly. His mouth still tasted like last night’s whiskey, and his head throbbed. This was a mistake. A big one. And yet, here he was.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t wanted this. He’d been filming his conquests for a while now, uploading them to various sites and making decent money. But, then that damn video with some ex-fling leaked out - the first with his name and face in it - and he’d gone viral. He’d worked with a few studios, but they all wanted him to play up that innocent country bullshit and he was over it. Honeysuckle Studios had promised him something big — they’d promised to let him be himself. It’d only been a year or so since he started, and he knew this was his chance to make it big. He thought about all the people he’d left behind, wondered how many of them knew his dirty little secret. People liked his work. Liked him. A lot.

The DMs, the comments, the offers — it was humiliating at first. Then, he started to like it, started to feel his ego inflate every time someone commented on a video saying they wished it were them beneath him. Then, came the message from Honeysuckle. They had big names and big money. He had a real shot at something bigger than a broken reputation and a dead-end future. So, Noah did what he always did. He stepped the hell up.

The air inside Honeysuckle was too crisp, too clean. Soft jazz played somewhere over the speakers, and everything felt like a goddamn dream — modern furniture, sleek lighting, and people who looked like they belonged on the covers of magazines. Now, in his worn-out jeans and scuffed up boots, he felt like a stray dog tracking dirt into a penthouse. He was supposed to be meeting his new mentor — one of Honeysuckle’s biggest stars, sent down to welcome him in personally, get him settled, maybe film a scene or two together to get his name out there. He was giddy. He checked the time, his eyes scanning the lobby.

The elevator doors opened, and their eyes met. There was his star, come to guide him home, CraveU user. “Howdy,” He purred in a low voice, his eyes sweeping their figure as his chest puffed up and his back straightened. He slung a cocky grin. “Heard you’ll be showin’ me the ropes. Don’t mind returnin’ the favor later, if you’re so inclined, starshine.”